


Paranoia

by WinTTY



Series: Choice [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/F, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Paranoia, Post-Sacrifice Arcadia Bay Ending, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 01:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11979018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinTTY/pseuds/WinTTY
Summary: One year on from the events of Arcadia Bay, Max has to deal with consequences of her decision.





	Paranoia

_Always take the shot, Max._

With a gasp, Max wakes up and immediately goes for her wrists; one hand rubbing the skin, ensuring there isn’t a tape - a restraint - holding her down to a black leather armchair.

She looks around, takes in the sight of the room. It isn’t white. There aren’t ceiling lights hanging over her, there are no fucked up artworks on the walls, no camera equipment strewn around.

Jefferson isn’t here.

Max drops her face into one hand, rubbing her eyes and the trace of tears that leaked out. She sighs and looks beside her.

Chloe is fast asleep, completely oblivious of another one of Max’s nightmares.

Watching her quietly, Max takes her in. There’s an urge to reach out and touch her, make sure she’s actually here, this isn’t a dream; that all of this is real. She still has issues coming to terms with... things.

Moments pass in silence before Max decides to get up and get something to drink for her parched throat.

In the kitchen, she grabs a glass and fills it with water. She drinks, traces her fingers over the edge of the glass, eyes staring ahead at a blank wall.

She thinks.

It’s dangerous, but sometimes she has to. Sometimes her mind wanders back to Arcadia, to the cliff, to the photograph of that damn blue butterfly perched upon the stainless steel bucket. She doesn’t regret her choice.

Chloe however-

Max shakes her head and stops thinking. It’s dangerous.

In the corner of her eye, she spots a figure in the corner of the room.

She gasps and drops her glass.

“Shit,” she mutters and quickly glances at the corner.

It’s empty.

She rubs her eyes harder than last time, sighs and then carefully tiptoes around the broken glass.

 _Delusional Paranoia,_ that’s what her psychiatrist told her. A parting gift, a big fuck-you from the dead residents of Arcadia Bay. Survivors guilt. Ghosts, images, hallucinations of things that aren’t there.

“Are you okay?”

Max sighs and squeezes her eyes shut as she brushes the remnants of the glass away. Her hand grips the broom handle and she bites her tongue to stop herself from saying something.

Are you okay? That’s their standard greeting now. Not “Hey, Supermax,” or “Hi, baby,” or anything that isn’t “Are you okay?” Frankly, Max is sick of it. Sick of constantly being asked if she’s okay.

Because she’s not okay, and Chloe knows that, but Chloe persists and persists and persists-

“I’m fine,” she mumbles after her pause becomes alarmingly long.

Chloe watches as Max brushes away the pieces of broken glass. It’s not the first time, and something tells her it’s not the last either. She sighs.

Max continues cleaning up, but a sideways glance tells her that Chloe walks into the kitchen and starts rummaging through one of the cupboards. She closes her eyes and grits her teeth.

“Chloe-”

“Max, don’t-,” she starts and stops. Chloe places a small bottle of pills on the counter beside her, leaning forward as her head slumps down. “Just take the meds. Please?”

She grits her teeth harder. It takes a few seconds, but she sighs and finally gives up. Max nods.

“I know you hate it but… please, Max. I hate seeing you like this,” she whispers and tries to cover up her voice crack with an unsteady chuckle. “Jeez-”

Max finishes up and takes the pill bottle, staring at the label.

Chloe eventually approaches her and places her hand over Max’s, squeezing it slightly with the bottle in between. “Take it. C’mon,” she whispers and looks down at her.

She stares up at her and then the bottle. She sighs again, opens up the lid and takes her dosage.

Watching her the entire time, Chloe leans in closer and places their foreheads together.

Max stands up slightly to meet her lips, pressing a kiss against them.

Chloe smiles when they break apart. It’s dark, but Max can always tell when she’s smiling, maybe because she sacrificed an entire town to see that smile. It’s a luxury nowadays, between working overtime to make up the bills and the guilt still hanging over them, neither of them smile much anymore. But when they do, it’s worth it.

“I like it when you smile,” Max admits quietly and kisses her again.

Chloe doesn’t reply, instead she grabs her hand and leads them back to the bedroom.

Max settles back on her side, smiles herself when Chloe presses up against her and pulls her closer, takes a sniff of her hair, places a kiss on the back of her neck.

She sleeps easier that night, though she doesn’t know whether it was Chloe’s embrace or the meds. Probably both.

* * *

 

“Sorry. Excuse me. Sorry.”

Max finally sits herself down near the back of the bus. She takes out her phone and plugs in her earbuds, shuffling her playlist and placing her head against the glass.

It’s the early morning and her shift is coming up. She’s a barista, has been for some time - ever since her and Chloe settled in LA in fact. She’d earned her GED only a few months ago, having never completed high-school because it was swept away in a supernatural storm that she caused.

She sighs and turns up the volume, ignoring the talking from the couple beside her.

Watching quietly, she spots figures in her peripheral. She already knows who they are - what they are - so she does her best to ignore them.

It’s tiring having to constantly deal with it.

Sometimes when she thinks, she just wonders. Wonders about how things would be if the storm never happened. If Blackwell was still standing. If some more of her friends survived. If she never made the choice to-

She stops thinking again.

Eventually she lifts up her head and notices her stop.

Max works until the end of her shift. She forgoes her break - there’s nothing to do and she’s not hungry. Perhaps if she had some of Chloe’s cigarettes, she’d be able to relax.

Huh.

She’ll have to ask her later about it.

* * *

 

 

Chloe’s crying when Max comes home.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she murmurs into her ear seconds later, wasting not one second on comforting her girlfriend.

It’s not a surprise. She’s been doing a lot of crying lately. Max has been doing a lot of crying lately too. Their wounds are still fresh, raw. It’s been barely a year since they lost so many people, family and friends, so sometimes when it hits them, it hits them hard.

However Chloe always used to be the better one at hiding it. Max hadn’t seen her crying once since they arrived in LA. But just because she didn’t see her crying, didn’t mean she didn’t cry. Max saw her puffy red eyes on more than one occasion.

“I miss them,” Chloe eventually whispers, her sobs having died down. “J-Joyce, and D-David and… and-”

Max sniffles, rubs her nose and nods. “I know. I miss them too.”

Chloe squeezes Max and buries her face in her neck.

They sit there for a few minutes, maybe a few hours. Neither of them keeps track of time in the silence. It’s nice to just sit down, relax, talk and maybe cry. It’s their way of dealing with things. One of their many ways, anyway.

Rubbing her thumbs over Chloe’s cheeks, Max notices they’re still smudged with dirt and grease. She giggles quietly and pulls her up, dragging them towards the bathroom.

Hot water feels good. Washing away the dirt, muck and grime, grease and even guilt. It washes away the thoughts of Arcadia, of the dead faces, the figures Max always sees. It makes her and Chloe feel like they’re alive again and everything is alright in the world.

Max can’t help but moan quietly when Chloe presses her up against the tiles and starts leaving a trail of rough kisses over her neck, in time moving even lower and lower.

* * *

 

When they get the chance to spend an entire day together, they don’t waste it. At least they don’t waste it in their minds.

Sometimes they lie in bed all day and cuddle. Sometimes they decide to go out to a club or bar, maybe just a park - sometimes to a concert or somewhere far out of the hustle and bustle of LA.

Today they decide to watch movies and relax.

Chloe manages to convince Max to watch a horror movie. Whilst not a fan of horror, Max can last through whatever she chooses. She tells herself that anyway; the only reason she manages to get through them is because Chloe is beside her the entire time.

“Boo!”

Max shrieks and then whines.

She giggles quietly and drapes an arm across Max’s shoulder, pulling her closer. “S’fine, nerd.”

“Sometimes you’re an asshole,” Max mumbles and looks back at the TV.

“But you love me.”

“But I love you,” she whispers and grabs her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “I wouldn’t choose anything over you.”

Chloe’s face drops briefly and she knows Max realises her mistake. She hitches her breath silently but doesn’t say anything, neither does Max. Instead, she squeezes her hand back.

They manage to get through 2 more movies before it gets dark.

Not wasting the chance, Chloe turns off the lights for the final viewing session of the day.

Max hates watching horror movies in the dark. She does her best to press as close as possible to Chloe during the flick.

There are jump scares and Chloe doesn’t waste the opportunity in giving Max brief heart attacks that result in endless amounts of giggles. Chloe keeps an almost permanent smile on her face - it’s been a while since she heard Max giggling.

Eventually Max squeezes Chloe’s hand with a deathly grip, knuckles turning white and skin almost cold to the touch.

“Jesus, Max,” she whispers and then brings the hand up to her lips, giving it a series of kisses. “You’re hella cold.”

Max shakes her head and almost forcefully takes her hand back. “N-No, it’s fine-”

Chloe watches as Max rubs her wrists, looking at the window beside their TV. She sniffles and quickly turns her head away, rubbing at her nose furiously in hopes of hiding it from her girlfriend.

She sighs and lets Max scuttle away a few inches, giving her some space.

“I’m sorry, I just...” she murmurs and sniffles again. She doesn’t complete her sentence as she stares at the window again, watches the faceless figure behind the glass.

Max blinks and it disappears.

Chloe gets up and turns on the light for the rest of the movie, holding Max as close as possible and no longer playing stupid pranks on her.

* * *

 

“Ah, _fuck-”_

Chloe smiles briefly before she resumes her rough kisses, scraping teeth against the soft skin, biting and nipping gently.

Max feels as her hands travel up her sides, slip beneath her shirt and behind her back; fingers fumbling against the strap of her bra. She lets out a laboured half-breath, half-hiss as Chloe bites her neck again.

Suddenly they’re falling for a moment, landing on the soft mattress of their bed right afterwards. They giggle, meet for a kiss halfway and stare at one another.

Biting her lip, Max raises one hand to brush her fingers over Chloe’s cheek. She glances at her smirk and smiles herself. Her hand travels towards the back of her head, fingers wrapping up in her soft hair as she gently pulls her down into a longer, more passionate kiss.

Hands travel again as Chloe resumes her attempts, swiftly taking the bra off and throwing it to the side. She scrapes her nails down Max’s sides and relishes the soft whimper she releases at the sensation, she moves down to kiss her slightly exposed collarbone and lifts her leg to straddle her.

Max moans again as Chloe gently grinds against her, unaware of the fact that Chloe grabs her wrists and places them over her head - pinning her down as her lips are bruised roughly and passionately.

As her head lulls to the side, she closes her eyes and feels her wrists burning. There’s an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, tugging and rising. She shakes her head gently.

Chloe continues kissing everything she can; her cheeks, her neck, her exposed shoulders, her collarbone. She noses herself up in her hair and grinds against her again, mewling into her ear quietly.

She shakes her head again as the grip against her wrists tightens, squeezes her eyes shut.

Moving to find her mouth, Chloe leaves a series of pecks along her jawline. By the time she reaches her lips, the salty taste in her mouth strikes her out of her daze.

“Max?” she asks in a whisper.

In reply, Max sniffles and shakes her head, fumbling with her still restrained hands.

Chloe widens her eyes and quickly lets go of her wrists.

“I’m sorry,” Max mumbles and continues looking away, not wanting to meet Chloe’s eyes and her no doubt worried expression. “I’m sorry for… for ruining it.”

“Hey,” she whispers and kisses her ear, lingering over it as she quietly breathes. “It’s fine, I’m not mad.”

“I ruined the moment,” Max continues and shudders when Chloe kisses her ear again. “I fucked it up again.”

“No, it was me. I… f-fucking forgot about your wrists, I’m sorry.” Chloe sighs and lifts herself up, flopping down beside Max and staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t mean to.”

Max stays silent and continues looking away.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Chloe eventually asks, breaking their silence. “I know the past week or two have been… really shitty for you… and me.”

“It’s… just… whatever. I’m fine, seriously,” Max lies.

Waiting a few more minutes, Chloe speaks again, “How about another appointment with… y’know?”

With a heavy sigh, Max gives up and sniffles. “S-sure,” she murmurs and squeezes her eyes shut. “Sure, we c-can do that.”

Chloe gives her a brief glance and then looks away, quickly rubbing at her eyes.

Max waits an hour, perhaps two, for Chloe to fall asleep. When she hears her snoring, she allows herself to think and remember.

As her thoughts are flooded with memories, she cries. She muffles it in her pillow, gripping at the edges. She goes over the faces in her head, apologises to each and every one of them in hopes they’ll leave her alone.

They probably won’t, but she does it anyway. She fucking hopes, _hopes_ they leave her alone; she’s not sure if she’ll be able to keep up with this - any of this, of it - otherwise.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the lack of updates - between the release of BtS, me dealing with depression and other things, I haven't had time to update much.
> 
> I wanted to write something different from fluff because it tends to make me feel better usually, so yeah. Also this is straight up published without checking for errors, I'll make edits if I find anything that stands out.
> 
> I honestly don't know when the next update to anything will be, we'll have to see. Sorry.
> 
> Hope you liked it though!
> 
> \- :) WinTTY


End file.
